Blackfoot Forest while you eggheads is on the wall preparing answers

@Mulberry

val wandered today, for no reason other than he felt the pressures of the changing season upon him. ursus was small; insular even — the more he stayed within their walls the more he felt encroached upon by them.

his nose still complained, in the way old injuries often do — but the day was young and bright, and it sung in a quiet way that bolstered his thoughts and step.

old tracks left by turkeys in the snow caught Val’s attention. he paused between a spire of wintered trees, breathing deep of the crisp air and melting snow.

though mulberry is aware she should be training, especially as the competitor within her yearns to climb her way up the ladder, bloodied tooth by tooth ...she does part of a patrol and veers off, crossing the shadow mountain and stepping onto the playful shadows of blackfoot forest. she cannot remember the last time she was here — possibly never because she tended to stick close to arlette in the months before their ultimate departure from the wilds.

she follows a path, trodden by wild boars ( if her nose is telling her correctly ), following the trampled debris without actually seeking them. it is just easier for her to navigate an already worn path then attempt to forge her own.

it is during this languid exploration that she realizes her path has crossed a stranger's; and considering the shadows work to camouflage him, she might've missed him entirely if not for movement out of the corner of her eye. poking her head out over the brush, she eyes him for a moment before decisively letting out a chuff to announce her presence.

somewhere here the thin tracks of boar intersected turkey; val wondered what, if any, congress was had in these dappled halls.

he was alerted to another’s presence by a chuff that had him startled. turning around carefully, val regarded the figure half-submersed by winter brambles. he could barely make her out, but scent informed him this was a stranger. who are you?

it is only now that mulberry catches the scent of turkeys where it intersects the scent of boar. she ponders this for a moment but doesn't focus upon it. it appears that mulberry had startled him and though instinct cautions her, she cannot help the small smile of amusement as it flickers to life across her muzzle.

for a wild moment, she considers giving him a false name: but to what extent? she did not believe she mattered to the saints and he did not smell familiar — nor did she smell any familiar scents upon his pelage.

mulberry. she offers her name a she shrugs a bit further out of the bushes, dull golden gaze trained on him. and who are you?

nothing familiar clung to her pelt. she sized him up, as he did she. at first he assumed her pelt matched his, yet as she unbraided herself from the canopy of thatch and brush, new colors came to light. bluish gunmetal, dark oil swaths -- silvery toes.

val. he answered, committing to memory the name mulberry. he was not so crafty as to think of lying. "where are you from?"

val. nice and short; easy to remember.

her socializing skills outside her closest circle clearly needed work — though she was surprised at how easily she was able to spill her thoughts to towhee ( which might've had something to do with her rapidly developing crush on her ).

where are you from?

she considers lying; again. but she did not have to hide anymore ( she thought ); at any rate she was not ashamed of her past. she could not help where and to what pack she'd been born into and she firmly believed whatever wrong the saints had caused the wilds did not reflect who her parents were.

i'm from mereo. you?

if val was smart, he would lie.

but he didn't. mereo didn't mean anything to him -- it likely meant a lot more to merrick and aventus, but their time in akashingo had predated val's discovery of them, and he knew nothing of the militaristic outpost.

i'm from ursus. val started, finding the statement strange on his tongue. he wanted so badly to belong there. well, i grew up in sapphique but.. but now he followed bear worshippers. bit by bit, he was becoming assimilated. what's mereo like?

ursus.

the name strikes within her a note of familiarity: for how could it not when it'd been on the lips of every saint like a witching hour uttered curse?

but the bone to pick with ursus had belonged to the ex-grandmaster. not her. the circumstances of which pack she'd been born into were unfortunate but were what they were; despite that it clung to her like an unwanted shadow.

val goes onto to tell her that he grew up in a place called sapphique — not a pack she's heard of admittedly — and it begs the question of why he left to her lips.

why'd you leave? she inquires softly, curious; for they were trading information, weren't they? his inquiry about mereo gives mulberry soft pause; a moment to chew on the inside of her cheek as she considers it. how much was she to tell? was it a secret? things she hadn't asked during her border interview. questions that hadn't crossed her mind until she was in the situation where she needed them answered.

very militaristic. the vague truth seemed the best option here. no details were offered but all that adjective captured mereo in it's all.

val had hoped the conversation would steer away from him - but sharply, the subject turned back. why had he left?

he disguised the flinch well, but guilt still trickled down him like an unpleasant running of water. a bear chased me from them. a truth and a half - he had returned months later, but had been whisked away again.

what is living in a militaristic pack like?

val's ears turned to mulberry as she answered. for a while, he enjoyed her company and was almost sorry to leave, but duty called him elsewhere. with a bow, val turned and made back for ursus.